


Explorations In The Library

by Nsfwitchy



Series: Looking In A Mirror [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: First Time, I don't really have an age in mind but I usually imagine them to be teenagers, I just wrote a sex scene and went "oh this is good", Improper Preparation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Inexperience, implied anal tearing, mtf 514a, trans 514a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26987038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nsfwitchy/pseuds/Nsfwitchy
Summary: 514a found some old dirty novels hidden away in the Wayne library, and insisted Bruce try a few new things with her.
Relationships: 514A/Bruce Wayne
Series: Looking In A Mirror [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893241
Kudos: 2





	Explorations In The Library

They use spit for lube.  
There’s little prepping, if any.  
They do tend to gloss over proper preparation in dirty novels and it’s not like the two of them have much else to go off of.  
There’s no fight, no nerves, no clenching muscles to work through.  
People panic because they’re afraid of pain and when you can’t feel pain, well, then what’s the point? 514a’s more curious than anything - curious and compliant as Bruce pushes himself inside, white knuckle grip on her thighs. He isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be this tight - deep down he feels like it isn’t, like this is a bad sign, but all the books they’ve read make it sound so good and he can’t disagree.  
514a is warm around him, and soft, and oh so fucking tight and for a second he swears he’s gonna cum right there, but he can feel his clones gaze glued to him, urging him to move, to do something.  
5 wants to know how it feels.  
They’ve been scanning these old dirty novels for weeks - books they found in a dusty corner of the library one rainy day - and she wants to know if the stories are true.  
It feels funny so far, foreign, but not bad.  
She likes the faces Bruce makes as he adjusts to the new feeling, situating himself so he can move better.  
5 decides she likes being on her back - likes watching Bruce whimper, face flushed, eyes screwed shut as he begins to rock his hips.  
Now it starts to feel good.  
Feeling good has always been rather foreign to 514a, but lately it’s started to become more familiar.  
More at home.  
No ones ever touched her like Bruce does and she’s not afraid to make it known how much she likes it, writhing on the old couch, digging her nails into the dusty fabric, back arching, chest heaving  
Bruce isn’t particularly skilled.  
Neither of them are going to learn where the g-spot is any time soon, and he certainly won’t be winning any awards for his technique.  
He’s sloppy and his thrusts are messy and the only reason he isn’t slipping out is because it feels like 514a has a vice grip on his dick - but whatever he’s doing it seems to be working. Or so he hopes.  
5 looks like she’s having fun, he notes the few times he opens his eyes, allows himself to peek past his lashes at the familiar figure below him.  
Her flushed face staring back at him reminds him too much of his own.  
It’s humiliating, in a way, seeing such familiar features contorted in such ecstasy, such vulnerability.  
But it does something to him, something he can’t place - makes the warmth pooled low in his stomach coil and contract and he pushes forward again, harder now, and the body beneath him jumps. And gasps.  
He feels 5 pushing back against him, keening and whimpering, begging for more.  
It’s Bruce’s turn now to have his eyes glued to his partner, watching her pale body twist and moan.  
Her hands tremble, desperately trying to keep grip on the couch below, and Bruce doesn’t remember speeding up but he can feel himself pounding into her now, watching intently as 5’s face twitches - brows furrowing, mouth opening, and closing, and opening again with each desperate noise she makes.  
She’s loud.  
The only sound he can hear in the silence of the library that isn’t his own breathing and the slap of skin on skin, the scratching of nails on fabric, the sound of the birds chirping outside.  
For a split second he wonders if Alfred can hear them.  
He prays he can’t.  
The moment is gone as he feels muscle contract around his dick, hot and wet, and the room goes white  
Blood rushes in his ears, and he swears his heart is going to pound out of his chest.  
A shrill noise coming from somewhere outside of him, or maybe it is him, he can’t really tell.  
But when he opens his eyes again he comes face to face with 514a, hair messy, eyes glossy, cum splattered across her stomach  
They stay like that for a minute, looking at each other, studying each other - taking note of the familiarities of each other’s faces, the same crease in their brow, curve of their lips, red to their cheeks.  
Even their chests seem to rise and fall in sync.  
It feels like the calm before the storm, though they both know the storm has already passed, and now the manor feels eerily quiet again. As if even the wind in the trees hushed itself for them.  
Bruce pulls out.  
He should’ve pulled out before, he knows enough to know that, but he wasn’t thinking and now 5’s leaking his cum onto her skirt.  
She doesn’t seem to mind, though it’ll be a pain to clean up later and they both know that.  
She just looks up at him with a tired smile, thighs trembling, and Bruce notices now that his are doing the same.  
514a grabs his shirt, pulling him down on top of her, still scarily strong even in her tired, cherubic bliss - and he lets her, flopping down onto her chest, exhaling shakily against her skin.  
Her nose is bleeding again.  
Bruce reaches across her, pulling some tissues from a nearby table and pressing them to her bloody face.  
Neither of them notice the blood on the couch, the blood on 5’s skirt, dripping into the mess of cum staining the expensive fabric.  
For now, neither of them care.  
It’s a problem for another time - when their limbs don’t feel so light, and yet somehow so heavy.  
When the calm wares off, when the noise returns.  
When they remember there’s more to the world than just this moment, this couch, just the two of them.


End file.
